


Eighteen

by Venstar



Series: Meaningless Scars [18]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Angst, continuance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 14:56:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15342303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venstar/pseuds/Venstar
Summary: “Stay still.  Don’t move.”





	Eighteen

**Author's Note:**

> a continuance from 17

Everything was all floaty, blurry bits. Was this it? Never having died before, Q wondered if this was it, was this finally happening. Did your brain still work in the afterlife? Something in the afterlife made a suspicious coughing sound, that sounded like a laugh. He looked for the sound. A golden halo came into view. Angels laugh? That’s interesting. The angel laughed again. Q tried to swipe a hand up to shut the angel up, but the infuriating thing caught his wrist...and then spoke to him.

“Stay still. Don’t move.”

Q squinted his eyes. “You sound familiar. You sound like 007. I’m used to hearing him...break my equipment,” Q murmured. “Is he dead too?”

“No, and neither are you, which is surprising considering the state of you when you got here.” The voice patted Q on his shoulder and stroked the hair away from his face. “Put your glasses on Q, there’s a good lad.” 

The voice put his hands around Q’s face, and when they pulled away, everything was clear.

“You’re no angel,” Q whispered. “You’re the devil.”

007, that insufferable bastard, who couldn’t even let him alone to die in peace, was smiling down at him. “And you’re not dead, although you do look like a half drowned cat.” His brows drew together and his face grew serious. “I can’t leave you alone for five minutes, can I?” He stroked a hand through Q’s hair again. Q wasn’t sure if Bond was comforting himself or Q. What happened Q. Another traitor in the mix?”

Q laughed and coughed oh it hurt. “You want to know what happened to me?” His voice came out a little unsteady, high in pitch as if he was going to go into hysterics but wasn’t sure if it was the good kind or the bad kind yet. He tried to move away from that soothing hand. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Bond removed his hand and sat back, peering down curiously at Q. “Really? Where was i supposed to go?”

Q missed that hand, but damned if he’d be the one to say. “Dr. Swann. You were with her, I assumed…” His voice trailed off as he almost spoke his assumptions out loud and was an ass in his hosts home.

Bond’s hand returned to stroking him, touching his neck, his wrists, lifting something off his chest. Q realized he was checking his pulse and whatever had happened to him below his neck. Bond made a little humming sound before his glanced up, meeting Q’s eyes. “Everyone always assumes where women are concerned. I didn’t think you thought along those lines or curves.”

Q laughed and even to him, it sounded hysterical. “I think along very different lines that aren’t female.”

“Why are you here, Q?” Bond asked.

Somewhere in Q’s mind, he remembered a similar question asked of him, asking if he was there to kill Bond. “Am I being interrogated? I should warn you, I’ve had training.” 

Bond’s voice sounded amused as he answered. “I thought I was the one being interrogated about my whereabouts.”

Q moved, trying to sit up. Oh that was a bad idea. PAIN! 

“Sshh,” Bond said. “Easy. I’ve given you a bit of double-oh first aid, so you’ll survive until you tell me why you’re here and who it’s safe to call.”

“You gave me double-oh first aid?” Q repeated bond’s statement. “What does that even mean. What does it all mean. Why am I here, why are you here, why is anyone here. Where is here? Angel. Angel or devil, I can’t make up my mind.”

Bond grinned. “Oh yeah, double-oh first aid. Sounds like it’s kicking in.”

“Am I drunk?” Q asked. “Did you make me...how did I have this much alcohol if I wasn’t awake for it. Did I like it? Was it the good stuff? Tell me you gave me the good stuff.”   
“You’ve had plenty of the good stuff. I keep it around for emergencies and you looked like an emergency.” Bond’s hands returned to his neck, wrists and chest. 

“You thought I was here to kill you,” Q laughed at his own answer. “You told Harpo to beat me.”

Bond frowned. “I told no one to beat you. Q, who’s Harpo? Is that who was sent after you?”

“I loves Harpo, but I’d kill him dead, before I let him beat me.” Q laughed again.

“Q! Q, answer me, who is Harpo? A person, an organization, come on.”

Q whispered the rest of his answer out, after realizing Bond didn’t understand his humor. “Someone tried to kill me, I think, maybe. Who knows, it was late and I had my laptop...my laptop! James!” Q tried to sit up again...but he forgot how bad of an idea that was. The room spun and the angel became fuzzy again and he hurt, he hurt. “Moneypenny? Moneypenny?”


End file.
